A Cook's Tale
by SlugSLinger
Summary: In the middle of nowhere, a young man from our world appears amidst a disastrous accident with naught but the clothes on his back. Trapped in a world he once thought to be fiction, David, an aspiring chef, must learn to adapt quickly to a world where the fight for survival is a daily occurrence. Preferably without dying in the process. A RWBY SI fic, don't own the series.
1. Prologue: A Day in the Life

Author's Note: This is a self-insert fic, yes. I've read plenty enough to understand how many aren't well-liked, so I will try to keep this from steering in Gray-sue/Mary-sue territory as much as possible. I will try to establish just how dangerous the RWBY-verse is and how screwed my SI will be, and if I fail to do so, don't be afraid to review and let me know.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue: A Day in the Life<strong>

To an outsider, this scene would've looked chaotic.

The forms of men and women rushing to and fro with ingredients and tools to fill out specific orders. Voices of varying volumes, the rapid thumps of knives on chopping boards and the clattering of plates all merging into one. A tempest of activities carried out by a group of dedicated people to ensure the smooth operation of a vital part of one larger system. An outsider would've been overwhelmed by the sheer chaos taking place and would've let themselves out as soon as they could. But if they remained behind longer, they could've seen the order behind the chaos. How everything came together as one well-oiled machine through the chaos.

One man left the pantry with a basket full of vegetables, onions and meats and placed them on a table. A woman rushed past, picking up an armful of assorted ingredients and returned to her station. There, she worked with two others and swiftly reduced the ingredients into countless pieces of various sizes and shapes that were then organized accordingly to type, size and shape in bowls. A man then grabbed a handful of chopped onions and threw them into a small wok, sizzling as they came into contact with hot oil. More ingredients were thrown in, vegetables and then meats, and slowly a strong, delicious scent began wafting up. He worked the small wok with one hand to flip its contents over once, twice, keeping it steady with a spatula in the other. After the scent became overwhelming, the man flip the contents of his wok once and carefully transferred it into an empty dish waiting next to him before handing his used wok to an assistant who handed him another, freshly cleaned, wok for use.

I wiped the sweat off my face with my sleeve as I oiled and heated up my wok in preparation for the next dish to cook. The sounds and chaos of the kitchen had been overwhelming when I first came here, frightening even. Now, I let the noise wash over me, join the chaos as one of their own, and grin as some of the older chefs glanced at me, impressed.

"Table 17's order, ready!" I said.

"Got it." A man came by and placed my cooking on a tray. "Order from table 6, the Franklin Special."

The recipe for that dish came to me instantly, nodding to the departing man as I grabbed the chopped onions and threw them into the hot oil. The noise and chaos engulfed me once more, washing away my thoughts as I began working the wok and threw in more ingredients. The heat from the stove washed over the skin of my bare forearms and face, making me sweat. I winced as I felt the skin of my hands and fingers burn where they accidentally brushed against the hot steel of the wok.

But I didn't care. I wouldn't trade this for anything.

* * *

><p>I let myself fall on one of the chairs of the employee's lounge after I changed out of my work clothes and into my casual ones. My shift had just ended and the evening workers were coming in, changing into their uniforms quickly as to relieve the chefs still at work. I had wanted to do some overtime so that I could get more experience, but the head chefs and a few of my seniors had turned down my request.<p>

"Kid," the large man who had been my boss for the better part of three months said. "There is such a thing as working too hard, ya'know?"

"At the rate you're going, we should just hire you now and save the bosses some annoying paperwork." One of my seniors said, a middle aged woman with blonde hair, smiling. "And besides, I'm beginning to like having you around."

"A bit rough around the edges, but that's how most great cooks start. A bit more polish, and before you know it, you'll be even better than Ramsey!" said another, a man with bright green eyes. "Next time, I'll teach you a few of my personal recipes! They're great, I promise!"

"Yeah, at giving food poisoning!" his friend chuckled. "Your food tastes like shit!"

"You take that back, asshole!"

The room shared a laugh, myself included, as I punched in my card and slung my work bag over a shoulder.

True, this might not have been the best of work places for some, as evidenced by four of my fellows resigning after a week. Out of the 5 trainees assigned to this particular hotel, three had left after a week and the fourth after another two. All of them claiming that they 'were wrongfully insulted for things they did not commit'. In the end, I was the only one who could take the insults the chefs hurled at everyone and thus ended up as the last trainee left. Sure, I had to pick up from where the other four drop outs left, but that was fine. More experience for me.

"Well, you guys can keep at it. I'm going home." I smiled and donned my favourite snow cap. "There's a nice, warm bath waiting for me there and I'm itching to hear about my performance review tomorrow."

The head chef looked at me and smirked, nodding once and waving me out. I did not like that smirk. It usually foreshadowed terrible things and I did not like such things as they often kept me up at night when I really needed the sleep. But still, my current boss was a good man and he knew better than to dash my hopes at a potential job after putting up with his shit for three months. Even I had my limits and if I found out I didn't qualify for the job, I'll buy a new knife just to carve him up with. Either that, or mix arsenic into a dish and feed it to him. Both were viable, cheap and well within my ability. All I had to do was to put it into effect.

Making my way down to the parking lot, I swiftly located my bike and donned my helmet. Slowly and carefully, I walked the vehicle out of its parking space, started the engine and then mounted it in preparation for the short, five minute trip home following the evening rush. As I sped on the highway and past the slow moving cars, I took a moment to reflect.

Ever since I've graduated from accelerated cooking class, life's been relatively good. I enjoyed the job I was working, I was good at it, I had friends there willing to vouch for me and my skills, and best of all, I had the potential to go even farther. A chef could go places if he or she put all their effort in it and can become celebrities in their own right. Just look at Gordon Ramsey and Jamie Oliver. They didn't become world famous overnight. They started out like me, on the bottom of the food chain and slowly made their way up. It will take effort and a lot of patience, but then, life was never easy to begin with.

In no time, I had arrived to the apartment building I called home for the past three months and parked my bike into my allotted parking space. I waved at the landlord, a happily married man of 49 with a wife and a stunning daughter around my age, and after a brief elevator ride, unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped in. It was a small living space my aunt owned, lending it to me after I started my trainee course. It was a modest space, with one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchenette and living room/dining room, all sparsely decorated. A stack of movies and animes were arranged neatly next to a second-hand DVD player and TV in the living room, a laptop sat unused on the coffee table in front of that.

Tonight, I'd pick up where I left off on the _Silver Spoon _anime after dinner. And if I'm lucky, I'd finish the anime just in time to catch the newest episode of RWBY airing on the web before catching some well-earned sleep.

As I sat there, munching on a bag of potato chips and laughing at the main character's antics, I couldn't help but wonder just how dull my life was. Sure, I had everything going for me at the moment, but then it still felt a bit… Lacking. Like there was some small part of me that wanted something more. Like an adventure.

Even as alone, I couldn't supress a snort. Yeah, like anything as outrageous as an _adventure_ would happen to some no-name guy like me.

In hindsight, I should've kept my mouth shut.

* * *

><p>And, that's the prologue. I hoped you enjoyed. Please leave a constructive review for me to work on by typing out a review and clicking that <strong>Review<strong> button down there.


	2. Bad Things Happen

Here's the second chapter. The reason how I managed to get this up so fast is because I have a lot of free time on my hands. But with college come up soon, well...

Anyway, enjoy and don't be afraid to hit that **Review** button down there!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Bad Things Happen<strong>

I awoke with a horrible ache plaguing my neck and my alarm clock screeching its accursed song into my ears. I swat at it blindly until it fall silent and drag myself out of bed and into my bathroom to begin my early morning ritual, followed by breakfast.

I wasn't a morning person at heart. If I were allowed my way, I'd have slept well past ten o'clock and would leave for work at twelve in the afternoon. But sadly, the evening shift ends at ten, which means that the day shift would begin soon after. And if I showed up late, the head chef would've had my head hung over his fireplace like he threatened to do the last time I was late. Amazing how concise orders can be when you're holding a big, sharp meat cleaver in one hand and the severed head of a dead turkey in the other. But potential death threats aside, there was also another reason I had to come early for; my performance review was today.

All trainees are required to go through a three month training period where they would be observed by the head chef and their performance would be rated. Work quality, personal hygiene, work station cleanliness, work speed and quality of finished product. Just some of the aspects of the trainee that's viewed and rated by the head chef. The result of this review would either mean official work and the beginning of a career, or a polite decline and termination of service.

Simply put, if you do well, you're hired.

Easy enough, right?

Breakfast consisted of warm coco with biscuits, something quick and sweet to keep me fuelled for today's activities. With music playing from my phone in the background, I folded my chef uniform into my work bag, packing in my water bottle and homemade lunch for when I would take my hour long lunch break alongside. Everything set, I made a round of my apartment and shut off all unneeded electrical appliances before stepping out and locking the door.

Entering the elevator, I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 8.40 am. Still early enough to arrive and get changed. Barring any unexpected intrusions, I'll get to the office in time to get my review and not get my head chewed/chopped off by the head chef. Maybe even get a cup from Starbucks or something and buy the daily news from York, the kind old man who ran the magazine stall just across the street from the hotel I worked in.

I got on my bike and set off, sparing a quick glance over my shoulder to see the apartment building I lived in disappear behind several smaller buildings as I rounded a corner and entered the highway. I'll come home again in the evening, I was sure of it.

But I didn't.

* * *

><p>The sound of the wind whipping around me as I sped forward to my workplace was dulled greatly thanks to my helmet, as were the other sounds that would've been heard by anyone travelling on a section of road filled with multiple speeding vehicles. The roar of diesel and petrol powered engines, the music blaring from open windows, the sound tires made when they rolled over asphalt, all of it was reduced to a comfortable din my ears could stand thanks to my trusty helmet. It was probably the reason why I didn't deign to notice the very faint sound loose metal as a red car cut past a large truck signalled to enter the fast lane.<p>

The massive vehicle was hauling a large tank marked with red hazard signs that indicated extremely flammable content. Gasoline, most likely. I noticed the signs and slowed down to distance myself from the truck and its cargo, more out of instinct than anything. I managed to myself a good distance away when it happened.

The red car's driver signalled to enter the fast lane, failing to notice the truck speeding forward behind it. The truck's tires squealed as its driver tried to slow down, but it was of no use. In a magnificent show of destruction that put everything Hollywood had to shame, the vehicles collided. The front cab of the truck caved in, crushed by the force of the collision and most likely killing the driver. The red car was flung away, into the path of other motorists who braked and swerved hard to avoid a collision. One of those motorists swerved into my lane and at the speed my bike was going, there could be only one possible outcome.

My bike hit the hood of the swerving car and I was sent flying. Panic flooded my senses and I flailed wildly in the air as the asphalt came rushing to meet me. I shut my eyes tightly and braced myself.

The impact knocked the breath out of me and sent pain rushing through my body. I pulled my limbs close and tucked my head in as I bounced off the road and landed again, the side of my helmeted head banging on the asphalt with enough force to rattle my teeth.

My body rolled with the inertia I had left and eventually came to stop, the sounds of destruction and chaos still taking place behind me. I blinked my eyes open, dazedly noting the crack running down the visor of my helmet and the absence of my work bag on my back, and forced myself up, wincing as pain flared up everywhere on my person. Forcing myself to ignore the pain, I looked back at the pile up.

Broken cars littered the road, bodies thrown every which way. The surviving drivers and passengers who were still trapped in their cars trying hard to find a way out. I spotted my bike, crushed between two cars and missing a tire. Motorists on the other side of the divider slowed down to have a better look at the scene. Not one of them bothered to call the ambulance or the police.

"Help!" I heard someone cry. "Somebody help! Please!"

I limped to the source, finding a man trying to pry open the crumpled door of his car that was wedged between another car and a divider. I saw the reason for his act, the form of a small boy huddling beside a girl his age. Siblings, I concluded.

"Please," he begged to me. "My son and daughter, they're-"

Our eyes widened as a familiar scent wafted into our noses.

Smoke.

"Fire!" we heard someone yell. "Get outta there!"

Normally, a fire breaking out in a car accident was rare. It required that the vehicle in question sustain enough damage for its fuel tank to rupture and the fuel vapours come into contact with a heat source, which is hard as the fuel tank is usually located on the underside of the car, protected by multiple layers of shock absorbing materials and metals. And even if such a thing did happen, the victims of the accident could just as easily run away from the fire and wait for help. But in this case, a fire breaking out now would be very bad as there was a crashed truck carrying a tank full of gasoline not from the source of the fire. And a quick glance to it confirmed my worst fears; the tank was ruptured.

Things have gone from 'bad' to 'utterly fucked'.

The man and I grabbed the crumpled car door and heaved. Steel groaned under our combined strength, but it stubbornly held. We pulled together with both hands, with one leg braced against the car's chasis, used a piece of metal to pry the door open, but it held still. I cursed and glanced at the burning car, my blood running cold as I saw it beginning to spread. Getting closer to the ruptured tank filled with fuel.

"Daddy!" the little girl cried, holding her brother close.

"Hold on sweety, we're almost there! We're almost there!" The man said, but I doubted if he believed his own words.

I looked around and saw the rear window.

"Kids," I spoke as I climbed on the car's roof. "Keep your heads down!"

The children huddled low and tucked their head in as I brought a foot over the rear window and stomped hard. Cracks spread from my foot like a spider web and the glass warped under the force of my stomp, but it held. I stomped harder and was rewarded with the musical tinkling of glass shattering under my boot. I enlarged the hole further with another stomp and glanced at the increasingly growing fire not far from my position. The flames had reached the truck now, it could blow any minute.

I reached in and grabbed the girl by her shoulders, pulling her out and handing her to her father. I reached in again, this time for the boy. I grasp his shoulders and all but hurled him into his father's waiting arms, who immediately turned and ran. I turn to the truck, it was covered in _fire-_

The world shook as a car detonated, the shockwave hurling me off the car's roof as heat more intense than anything I've ever felt in my life washes over everything. I hit the ground back first, screaming as my waist flared up in pain as stars appeared in my vision. I see flames spreading over the road, over cars and screaming bodies of trapped drivers and passengers, and close in. I watch they crawl up my legs, engulfing my body and _oh god its in my helmet-_

The world shakes again as the massive fuel tank explodes. The world is on fire, _I'm_ on fire_, _people are screaming, at me and at themselves, steel melts and flows on the asphalt like water, something parts through the flames and hits my helmet_-_

Darkness.


	3. Through Fire

**Chapter 2: Through Fire **

My vision returned slowly, the blackness fading back as my eyelids slid open to a world on fire and something inside my helmet. I panicked and my hands scrabbled for purchase until finally pulling it off and tossing it aside.

There was a piece of metal sticking out the front, still smoking. Holy shit,...

The smoke was thick and the smell stung my nostrils as I struggled for breath, but every movement I made induced pain from a position on my back and front. My arms felt like rubber, dull and heavy, but I forced them to move anyway with panic induced strength and touch something that was poking uncomfortably into my waist, where it hurt whenever I tried to move.

No, I realized. Not into. _Through._

I craned my neck down and saw for myself the glinting piece of metal that I had fallen onto. A grievous injury, maybe requiring at least a few weeks to heal properly. More if it's gone through my organs and bone. Which meant…

"God fucking damn it!" I cursed, damn the pain. "Of all the times to happen, why now?! Fuck!"

I looked around. There was fire everywhere and I doubt anyone would be coming to help unless they weren't in their right minds. I had to help myself, it seems.

"Okay," I took deep breaths, calming my racing heart and preparing myself for what I was going to do next. "One, two…"

Someone stumbled through the flames before I could finish my countdown, eyes wide and panicked. His breathing was ragged, his clothes were singed, half of his face was a mess of charred meat and he was bleeding from, oh God, his arm's missing! It looked as though it was just _torn off_ from the elbow! I can even see the bone poking out from where the, uh, oh God, I can't-

Was he involved in the pile up too? How did he manage to-

His eyes met mine for a scant few moments, just long enough for him to notice me, before they rolled up and he fell limply to the ground. His back sported a gash so deep I could see the bone, likely the result of shrapnel hitting him. The poor bastard died from blood loss.

I grimaced and looked away from the body. I couldn't do anything for him now.

"F-focus man, focus!" I told myself, taking a deep breath. "Okay. One, two…" I grit my teeth. "Three!"

I lunged forward with all the strength I had left, crying out in pain as I freed myself from the piece of metal I had previously been impaled on. I land in a heap on the ground, writhing as I tried to stem the bleeding as best I could, blood seeping through my fingers as I pressed the wound hard. It hurt badly, an unbearable pain magnitudes higher than anything I've ever felt up to that point. I grit my teeth and with a grunt, forced my feet under me. It was with incredible difficulty that I managed to stand and with an even greater difficulty that I managed to walk.

I shuffle to the dead body with the intent to just simply walk by, but the light of glinting steel caught my eye. I kneel down, painfully flaring up my wound in the process, and take the object in question from his nerveless fingers with a silent apology, looking it over.

It was a handgun, a revolver, judging from its size and the distinctive cylindrical bullet chamber. Large and bulky, with a futuristic design and feel to it that I was certain no other gun has. It was coloured even, the steel tinted blue and grey, with white scrollwork decorating the barrel and bullet chamber. Highly impractical for military or law enforcement use with its size, so it must be civilian made and personally customized. But why would anyone need to pull out a gun in a car accident?

The answer came in the form a growling black blur that tackled me to the ground from the flames and knocking the breath out of me.

It was the face I will remember in my nightmares for many nights to come. With its face clad in white bone-like armor, snarling with unnatural vehemence and glaring at my soul with eyes that were more crimson than actual ocular organ, the monster I had known only through the internet as Grimm tried its hardest to take my life.

It was a Beowolf, and a heavily wounded one at that. Parts of its skin had been burned off, its left arm was bent at a painful angle, and half of its facial armor had broken off, bleeding crimson tinted black. Deep gashes ran all over its frame, some deep enough for me to see glimpse of white bone and throbbing black organs as it moved. Yet its eyes burned with unnatural hatred and even with the grievous injuries it sported, the Grimm still had enough strength to match mine.

We struggled, its remaining arm held back by one of my blood stained hands, a jaw filled with wicked fangs snapping at my neck kept out of reach with my other hand. I writhed under it, moving my body so that I could use my legs to help push the monster back. But my strength was fading, my movements growing weaker as more blood leaked out of the wound on my waist. I had to finish this soon, had to kill this monster so that I didn't end up dying instead. But how-

The gun!

I looked around frantically even as I struggled to keep the Grimm from mauling me with its teeth. Its tackle had knocked it out of my hands earlier and sent it flying somewhere. Not far, though. I was sure of it.

I struggled, wriggling under the Grimm until I managed to get my legs on its waist. I put my weight behind me and shoved the Grimm to the side with a loud cry of exertion. It stumbled back and fell, its broken limb unable to cope with the sudden shift in weight and balance. As it picked itself up, I scrambled to find the gun.

The thick smoke obscured my vision, the heat and blood loss only making it worse. My fingers groped the ground blindly, looking for the touch of cool steel against warm soil. Come on, where is it?!

Behind me, the Beowolf growled and I turn in time to kick its head back as it snapped at me.

"Fuck you!" I cursed at it, kicking it again.

The gun was close, I could feel it. I just had to keep the Beowolf off me for just a bit more. Just a bit more.

The Grimm swiped at my flailing leg, pinning it to the ground with one claw and advanced. My other leg came up and fell on its snout, pushing back but not enough to stop it.

My hands kept groping. It has to be here somewhere! Soil, soil, rock, twigs-

The Beowolf pushed against my leg, growling, getting closer.

-debris, rock, more twigs-

The Beowolf shrugged my foot off its snout and advanced closer. I put one hand on it and pushed. Just a bit more, just a bit more…

-rock, soil, more soil-

The Grimm lunged, pushing past my hand until it stood over me. It opened its jaws-

_-Metal!_

I brought the gun up, my thumb cocking the hammer, and pushed the muzzle against its temple. The Grimm's eyes widened as I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening and the recoil nearly broke my wrist. The heat from the gunpowder igniting from within the bullet casing washed over my hand, hotter than any stove flame I've ever used. The Beowolf's head snapped sideways violently, its contents exploding outwards in a shower of gore as the round entered and exited with tremendous force. It fell on me, limp and dead and heavy, and I let my gun hand fall, too tired and too overwhelmed with pain to notice the body of a dead Grimm begin to dissolve before my eyes or move it.

My vision began to swim, both from the smoke and from the lack of blood. Nothing made sense to me anymore; was this really happening? Was this a dream cooked up by a brain choked full of dangerous chemicals, smoke and suffering from oxygen depravation? Was this some horrible joke played by some horrible dick who liked screwing with people? Did I really just kill a monster from an internet series?

"…I hate my life." I murmur, pushing aside the dead Beowolf and pulling myself up. "I _fucking _hate it so much."

Dream or no, I am not dying here. As much as I hate my life, I do not intend on ending it unless I've lost all hope and things are completely fucked up. This is still salvageable and I can still make it out of here, damned if I suffer in the process.

I stumbled, blood loss and pain making it very difficult to concentrate on walking. One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other. Keep doing that and I should be out of this fire in no time. Just focus on walking. Just focus-

Movement in my peripheral vision, I turned and raised my gun.

There was a gunshot and something zipping past my face, carving out a hole where the Beowolf's chest was. I flinch away, snapping my weapon to where the gunshot came from.

"Whoawhoawhoa, easy! Easy!" the gunman's muffled voice said, weapon pointed down. "You're fine! I just shot the Grimm stalking after you!"

I cocked back the revolver's hammer. "Duck."

He dropped to the ground, allowing me to see the Beowolf that had leapt at him from behind. I fired, the Beowolf's shoulder exploded in a gory mess of black and it tumbled mid-air, landing in a heap at my feet. I finished it off with another bullet to its head.

"Holy shit, thanks!" the gunman stood and rushed over, prodding the dissolving Grimm with one foot. "It almost got me and- oh my God, are you alright?!"

"You think?!" I can't believe this guy, how can he-

"I-I'm sorry, it's just-"

"Never mind!" I cut him off. "What the fuck happened? Where are we?"

He moved as though to speak, but paused as distant howling reached our ears. Oh right, Beowolves travelled in packs, didn't they? Shit.

"I'll tell you later, we gotta go!" He slung my arm over his shoulder and tugged me forward though the smoke and flames. I didn't resist, mainly because I was too weak to. I chanced a glance over a shoulder and manage to catch sight of Beowolves approaching the spot where I had previously been impaled on and began sniffing around. I saw them turn to our direction, snarling as a large form stalked through the flames and roared.

My first day in Remnant and already I'm hating it.


	4. Slayer

**Chapter 3: Slayer**

The flames roared at us from all sides, their heat washing over exposed skin like water. Behind us, Beowolves howled and gave chase, slowed only by the heat of the flames that surrounded us and their own self-preservation instinct. My strength was fading fast and I had to struggle to stay awake, let alone move. Because of that, I allowed the gunman to carry us onward, toward what I hoped was an escape route as I could hear the faint roar of engines over the flames and my own failing hearing.

"Crap, stay with me!" the gunman jostled me awake, flaring up my wound and making me cry out in pain. "Oh no, are you-"

"I'm fine." I say through gritted teeth, raising my revolver and cocking the firing hammer. "Keep moving! Just keep _fucking_ moving!"

"Okay, okay, it's just- I mean, I just made it hurt more didn't I?" he bowed his head, slowing down when he should've been moving. "I'm really sorry, I-"

A shadow leapt through the flames and skidded to a stop in front of us, roaring. I fired and it staggered back, whimpering painfully as the hole on its lower left back bled black.

"_Move it!"_ I all but roared in his ear. _"Fucking move, damn you!"_

"Okay! Okay!" he picked up the pace. "Geez, you didn't have to yell in my ear, asshole…"

I swear to God, does this guy ever shut up?! Couldn't he see the damn _Beowolves_ circling around the flames?! Couldn't he feel the threat of death linger right over our heads?! If I make it out of this, I'm going to shove the damn gun down his throat and pull the trigger. Maybe then he'll learn to stop babbling when our _lives_ are at risk!

The smoke was getting thinner now, the heat lessening. The roar of the flames had dulled somewhat and allowed me to make out the sound that had been obscured before, the dull rumble of an engine. Through the smoke, I could make out the outline of a vehicle, which meant escape from the Grimm and from this horrible heat if we could reach it alive and in one piece. Which would possibly mean I could get much medical attention and not bleed to death like that poor one-armed bastard I got the revolver from.

Crap, I'm getting sleepy...

"There's Bertha!" the gunman cried, jolting me awake. "We're almost there, hold on!"

I didn't say anything, merely cocked the revolver's firing hammer again and raised it as we cleared the smoke. I've played enough games and watched enough movies to know that just because we've made this far, doesn't we're safe. If anything, its now that we'll need to be careful the most. I've died from arrogance in too many video games for me to remember and that taught me that you couldn't be too careful.

Greeting us as we emerged through the smoke was an enormous vehicle of some kind, with three massive wheels larger than I was tall on each side, covered with armor and an armored turret on its roof belching out lead. Armed men and women garbed in clothing and armor of all kinds surrounded the vehicle, shooting at approaching Grimm and loading wounded aboard. Our shuffling forms did not go unnoticed as we emerged through the smoke, the armored turret rotating in our direction and opened fire, covering our rear. A group of armed men and women approached us. One of them, a middle aged man with a scar running over his nose, threw my gun arm over his shoulders revolver and all, and helped the gunman carry me to the armored vehicle.

"Alex," the man supporting my other shoulder said. "What took you so long?! We were just about to leave your ass here!"

"Sorry!" the gunman who had brought me out of the fire in the beginning said. "There were Grimm everywhere and I wanted to make sure we got everyone out, so I checked!"

"Do that again, and we're leaving you behind!" the man cried. "Do you hear me?!"

'Alex' sighed dejectedly. "Yes, Dad…"

"That's sir! What have I told about calling me-"

"Well, this is nice and all," I cut in, the pain making my grow impatient. "But can the two of you continue your argument _after_ we get out of here?!"

The man turned to me and glanced at my wound. He grimaced. "Right. Sorry." He turned to everyone else. "All aboard! Alex's here, we're bugging out!"

The men and women not on the vehicle turned as one, rushing back. Those already on it opened fire on the Grimm that went after them, the turret swerving around and providing its own brand of covering fire. I was dragged under the noise to the vehicle, having since lost the strength to walk on my own power, as more Grimm leapt through the flames.

We were half way there now. Just a short distance away from salvation. All I had to do then was to climb aboard, get treated and then-

An enormous weight landed behind us and 'Alex' paused to turn and check in the midst of his shuffling. My curse at him was cut short when a large claw swat at the three of us and sent us flying. I fell hard on my back not far from 'Alex', who's head smashed viciously against the ground and he fell limp. The impact flared my wound even more, making me see stars and cry out in pain. It also knocked my revolver out of my grasp.

Shit, everything's spinning. I can't feel my legs, they've gone numb from lack of blood. Or maybe they were broken? I couldn't tell, everything's a haze now. I can't-

There was a deafening roar, loud enough to shake the ground and force me to move and see.

An Alpha Beowolf had reared on its hind legs and bellowed, drawing its packmates out of the fire and around it. The armored vehicle, 'Bertha', as 'Alex' had dubbed it, reversed as armed people climbed out and unloaded their weapons at the gathering Grimm. The hail of bullets cut down the Beowolves easily, owing to the accuracy of the gunmen aboard the armored vehicle, and drove the Alpha back a few steps as they focused their fire on it. The old Grimm roared and fell on all fours, rushing forward through the hail of bullets to shoulder ram into the vehicle with enough force to rock it and send some of the gunmen tumbling off. With the temporary break in the fire, the Grimm leapt on the vehicle's roof and swiped at the turret, tearing through the relatively thin armor protecting the gun and gunner like tinfoil.

Then it turned to 'Alex's' limp form.

My entire body ached, some parts gone numb entirely. Blood had soaked through my shirt and the upper part of my pants, my wound searing with unbearable pain. I didn't want to move anymore, I really didn't. I was hurting, I was tired, wanting only to close my eyes and let unconsciousness take over. I didn't about anything else at the time but being allowed to sleep and let the pain disappear. If I had fallen asleep then, I wasn't certain whether I'd wake up again.

I was just about to let my eyes slide close, just about to succumb into the temptation of falling asleep and forgetting everything, when they fell on the glinting steel of the revolver, sitting there on the ground a few feet away. It sat there, as if mocking me and my pitiful state on the ground, broken and bleeding. Beyond it, the Alpha Beowolf growled and approached Alex's limp form with slow, deliberate steps even as the chatter of automatic fire and alarmed shouts rang out behind it.

To this day, I still don't know why I decided to stand despite the horrid pain plaguing my body. Why I picked up my gun, ran full tilt into the firing line of multiple shooting firearms, and leapt onto the Grimm. All I gained from that were several deep cuts, a badly mangled front torso, and another bad memory.

But I still would've done it again if I had the chance.

I landed on my stomach, in between the many large spikes that adorned the old Grimm's armored back, my free hand grasping every spike within reach with all the strength I had left as my feet sought purchase in the small niches on the Beowolf's armor. The Grimm did not welcome my sudden violation of its personal space and roared, thrashing about and buckling like a wild bull. The chatter of gunfire dulled slightly then but I did not notice it as I pushed myself further up the Grimm's armored back.

The surface of the Alpha Beowolf's armored back was coarse and rough, with countless nicks and dents where bullets and weapons had bounced off, failing to penetrate the hard material. I knew, not because I saw them, but because I felt those same features brush against the fabric of my shirt and skin underneath as I climbed and the Beowolf thrashed hard. I was too tired, too hurt to anything but drag my body forward, allowing those features scrape away at my body. It was sheer agony, I tell you. I felt skin breaking, flesh tearing, more pain invading my senses. But I grit my teeth and kept going, because if I gave up and let go, I'd have fallen off and eaten.

After a torturously long climb that felt than an eternity, but must've been no longer than a few seconds, I squeezed through a tight gap between two large spikes and raised my revolver, my thumb cocking the firing hammer back. My free hand reached out, grabbing a fist full of fur on the nape of the Beowolf's neck and pulled me forward. The Grimm was clawing at me, its claws trying to reach my weak body but were being encumbered by the many spikes that adorned its armored back. The wicked implements of injury could not reach me, but I could reach it. And because of that, I could do what I did next.

I brought my revolver up and pressed the muzzle against the base of the Beowolf's skull, finger tightening around the trigger-

The Grimm attempted one last desperate thrash, throwing itself to the ground with enough force to rattle my bones and bash my head on its spikes, cutting open skin and loosening my non-gun hand's grip on the Grimm's fur. The Grimm thrashed again and I slid back without purchase, screaming as my wound flared up again in horrendous pain. My vision blurred as pain flashed across my body, the agony like a thousand hot needles being raked across my skin and into my flesh. But through it all, I managed to clench one eye shut and lined up my revolver for the shot.

The Alpha Beowolf reared up on its hind legs and threw its head back, roaring. It must've felt vindicated at managing to throw pesky little me off of it.

I fired.

The back of the Grimm's head exploded in a shower of gore that rained on my face, forcing my eyes close out of reflex and bringing my arms up to shield my face. I realized too late that doing so was a mistake since, as the Beowolf had reared on its hind legs, I was at least a good few feet off the ground and in a precarious position. I felt gravity take over, pulling my body downwards and onto the ground. I crack open my eyes and watched as the Grimm stumbled forward and fell to the ground. Its head sporting a new hole that bored through one side and out the other.

I was in agony, pain coming in from a thousand different places, from my arms, my chest, my leg, the hole somewhere near my stomach. But despite the pain, I grinned and let out an exhausted, pained chuckle. I killed an Alpha Beowolf with one bullet, while covered with a ridiculous number of wounds and using no Aura. Or maybe I did use an Aura, and just didn't know it? Hell, maybe I unlocked my Semblance in the process?

Whatever. It was over. I'm dying and soon enough I'll go to where all dead people go. Now to close my eyes and finally, _finally_ get the sleep I've been wanting so much…

"Oh God, no!" Something fell on me, sending unspeakable agony rushing through my veins and my eyes bulging out. Shaking hands gripped my ruined flesh, and I let out a strangle cry that would've been a scream had I not been so overwhelmed with pain. "No! Don't die! Please! I-"

I was tired. I was in agony. Blood had soaked through my pants and shirt, some of it had already dried and caked along the outer edges, making movement difficult for me in my wounded and weakened state. I had lost a lot of blood, both before and during my insane stunt in killing the old Grimm. My eyelids were heavy and my vision was failing. But all counts, I shouldn't have the strength to do what I did. But rage was one hell of an anaesthetic, and with it I was able to push myself up and grab whomever it was that decided to prolong my suffering by the lapels of his shirt. No, her shirt. Wait, what the- No, _who the-_

I froze.

Her eyes were like emeralds, glistening with unshed tears lit by the fire raging in the background, glowing with concern and paying no heed to my hands that had grasped her collar. Her hair was a lighter shade of blonde, so pale it could've been mistaken for white, and was tied up in a practical low ponytail. Her skin was fair, smooth at the touch of my knuckles, soft like velvet. Her breath stank of oranges, or was it tangerines?, and her lips looked extremely kissable. The desire to just lean forward and take one peck at them was overwhelming. And for a moment, I wondered if I had literally gone up to heaven.

But of course, I was still alive, if dying. Andmy brain, addled with agony, rage, and confusion, did the only possible course of action there was. It ruined the beautiful moment by making me shake said beautiful girl by the lapels.

"_Why?!" _I found myself speaking. _"Why did you do that, god damn you?!"_

"I'm sorry!" she flailed her arms, her sentences ruined by the effect of me shaking her roughly. "I didn't mean to, I swear! Stop shaking me!"

"I nearly died saving your ass, and you repay me by literally sinking you fingers into my wounds?!" I roared. "You're lucky my gun's empty! I'd have shot you next if I had any more bullets! Inconsiderate, stupid, uncute-!"

"Daddy!" the girl screamed. "Help!"

Something heavy and tough hit the back of my head, and my vision turned black.


	5. Getting Your Bearings

Author's Note: Took a bit longer to get out than I thought, but managed it in the end. And what's this?! A **Review**?! At last, some constructive criticism and a few pointers! I wonder what kind of valuable knowledge this reviewer would provide?!

...

...Nevermind

But still, thank you **SilverstormXD **for reviewing! It brings me pleasure know I am portraying my SI right XD.

Anyway, enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Getting Your Bearings<strong>

_As a child, I dreamed a lot. Still do, actually. _

_In my dreams, I saw great wars being fought between men and monsters. Saw cities of glittering gems rise up from the void of my mind and reach out to the stars within the sky. Saw the legends of old being told in magnificent brilliance, every detail shown in great clarity. I've seen the rise of heroes, the fall of empires, the deaths of immense monsters, the fulfilment of forgotten promises, all of it rising up from the void within my mind. _

_But something felt wrong here, in this familiar place._

_I floated within the sea of darkness that my mind held, oblivion stretching out into infinity all around me. There was no sense of time here, no direction or feeling. It was as if I was stuck in one moment of time, a blink in eternity, suspended in an incomprehensible place that no other mortal, past, present, or future, would ever know. I might as well have been blind, deaf and mute here, being unable to do anything out of my own will. I treated this as any other dream, and waited for new tales to begin, for new heroes to rise and new empires to be built and crumble._

_And when none of that came, I grew scared. Fear rose up within me, slowly like the rising tide, and I had to fight down the urge to panic. What happened? Where were my dreams? The tales, legends and stories I had grown up with in my youth? Did I run _out_ of dreams? Were there no more legends to entertain me whilst I slept? _

_Suddenly, the darkness I had once loved as a child suddenly appeared less and less welcoming. There were… Things, within the dark. Bad things. Things, I had grown to fear in my childhood and even into adolescence. I wished I wasn't here, now. Pleaded, even. I didn't wish to wait and see if the dark did indeed hold horrors or if it was just another tale told to frighten children. I didn't want to be here._

_A cold feeling began to settle itself inside my gut, as the darkness around began to shift. Began to _move_. They appeared from the darkness slowly, one at a time. Figures, forms distorted and devoid of all features, mere outlines of things that were shaped like humans but weren't. They struggled and pulled themselves out of oblivion, stumbling on nothing, standing on nothing. There a few at first, no more than a handful, but more came. More pulled free from oblivion, joining the first few wordlessly and just… Stood there. A thousand empty forms and featureless bodies, watching me with eyeless faces, breathing through nostrils that weren't there. I had the strangest feeling that suggested they were waiting. For what, I wondered? _

_"__For the right time."_

_I jumped and spun round, coming face to face with… Myself?_

_"__That is not now, not yet."_

_I worked my mouth, trying to say something, anything. What did he mean by 'right time'? Was there a timer or something? _

_Eventually, I managed to force out one question out of the many in my thoughts._

_"__Who are you?"_

_The other me smiled. It looked sad._

_"__Who else?"_

_Before I could react, move or even say something, other me had raised a hand and pushed forward-_

_Falling._

_I was falling._

_The darkness shifted, allowing me to see the crowd of faceless forms and blank bodies tracking my descent from their position in the infinite void. _

_I felt the darkness shift, felt it move, felt it surround me with its cold embrace and squeeze-_

* * *

><p>I woke up on a shaking bed attached to a metal wall by two chains, feeling tired, my body aching all over and a massive headache. My vision was blurry, obscured partially by a bandage, partially by the headache, and it took all my strength just to move my head and look around.<p>

I was on a bed, I realized. Bandages covered every inch of skin on my chest, hands and legs, a large wad of cotton and gauze pressing onto an area below my stomach where I had been impaled on. A throbbing ache pulsed from under the wad, and I winced at the sharp pain that came when I tried to move. My hands looked more like mittens from how thick the bandages wrapped around it were, and my legs and feet weren't faring any better either, with how thick the bandaging was down there. An IV was connected to the crook of my elbow, and a clipboard with a paper full of words too blurry for me to read hung over the bed's headboard. A thick wool blanket had been draped over me, worn and well used, reeking of disinfectant and other hospital chemicals. The temptation to resume sleeping was overwhelming, but I resisted. I could sleep later, for now, I had to think.

I let out a breath and gingerly let my head rest on the pillow. Memories of the clash between myself and the Alpha Beowolf came to mind, and I grinned despite myself. It was stupid and there must've been at least several other ways I could've done what I did, but still, I had to admit that it must've looked badass. Crazy, dangerous and awesome.

I lost my grin as I felt the aches on my body return full force. Awesome though it may have been, it wasn't worth getting my hands, legs and chest torn up. It must've been hell for the medics to patch up, but they did a good job of it at least. I'll have to thank them later.

I raised my head and looked around. The room -no, compartment more like- was small and cramped, with barely enough room to fit three people at any one time and with very little in the way of furnishing or comfort. The interior was lit by a small fluorescent bulb and there was only one door that lead inside, with one small window on the not-so-far wall. The walls themselves sported spots of rust here and there, the paint starting to flake off on some places, and did I mention how the room was shaking? Not violently but enough for me to know that wherever I was, it was moving. I looked at the window and saw it was dark out. So it put me at least a few hours after the fight with the Alpha Beowolf.

Where was I? A hospital of some sort? Was I occupying someone else's bed for the time being, at least until I got back on my feet? If I did, then what'll happen next? I'm on Remnant, nowhere near Vale, let alone Beacon Academy, and I had next to nothing but the clothes on my back. Which must've been cut into ribbons, if the cuts on my chest were of any indication. What'll happen next? Will whoever picked me up cast me out once I'm healed? Will I be on my own, outside the Kingdoms where Grimm were everywhere? What about Cinder Fall and her plans for world domination or whatever the hell she's planning? Should I join Beacon and the help the girls there? _Could_ I stop something bad from happening? Did I even _want_ to?

I exhale loudly through my nose and calm my thoughts, cast out the panic. No, before all else, I need to stay calm. Panicked thoughts won't get me anywhere and it'll just be a waste of time. Before I do anything further, I'll need information. Where am I, who was it that rescued me, what do they want and most importantly-

Footsteps.

My mind went blank and panic rose from my gut. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, someone's coming! What do I do, what do I do, what do I-

I closed my eyes and put on the best sleeping face I could, which was easy enough as I was tired and closing my eyes threatened to make me actually fall asleep, fighting hard to keep the panic from making me do something stupid like lash out and scream. The creaking of a door and multiple footfalls on metal told me that people had just entered my room and the panic I worked so hard to quell came back with a vengeance. I prayed it didn't show on my face.

"How is he, doc?"

I recognized that voice. It belonged to the man who admonished 'Alex' for taking too long and addressing him by his familial title and not his on duty one.

"He'll live." A feminine voice I did not recognize said. "I think. Maybe." Well, that doesn't sound comforting. "I can't tell with so many cuts. It'll be a while before he wakes up, though. Poor kid lost a lot of blood, mind, so we had to do a transfusion and some minor surgery to patch up the more serious cuts and the hole going through his stomach. But he's a tough one, I'll give him that. Most boys his age would've passed out from the pain or just go limp and let someone else move them. Maybe he's a hunter-in-training, or he's related to one?"

"Can't be." The man denied. "Why would a Hunter-in-training or even a relative to one take a caravan to wherever it was he was going and not an airship or a Bullhead?"

"Maybe he doesn't like the air? Or maybe he's undercover," the other person, the doctor I assumed, said. "An assignment from the academy he's attending, perhaps?"

"No, it can't be." The man replied. "I know Hunters. They work in teams, four people per team, I think. No Hunter except the really good ones go out solo, let alone a kid as young as him."

"Maybe he's on a solo assignment?"

"Too dangerous for just one student, don't you think?"

"Well, how else do explain him killing an Alpha Beowolf then? And _alone _at that?" I heard a faint rustle. "Most of our guys, even the best ones like you or York, can't even get close to one of those monsters to land a clear shot, let alone jump on its back and _not_ get turned to Atlesian Cheese."

"The Beowolf's back was turned, it didn't see him, didn't smell him, it couldn't hear him over the sound of us shooting it, the kid got lucky when he jumped on and when he shot his gun, the bullet coincidentally hit the thinnest part of the Beowolf's skull."

"That's too many coincidences to be just luck, Frank." Frank? That was the man's name?

"Life is full of coincidences, doctor."

"…We'll see." A pause. "Did you at least find out who he is, yet?"

"No, and that's got me worried." 'Frank' said. "Simmons is very through when he lists names. That's why I made him responsible for civvie transport. He triple checks everything to be sure, I've seen him do it. If the kid really was a passenger and not some stowaway, the his name would've been on the list he keeps in his scroll."

I felt the panic that had been steadily subsiding rush back full force. If they found out I wasn't on the list-

"A shame he died, then." The doctor said, voice low. "He was a good man, Simmons. Are you sure we can't go back for his body? He deserves to be buried, at least."

"Odds are, the Grimm must've already eaten it. And that's if the fire hadn't cremated the remains."

The relief that washed over me at the news of someone's death felt deeply unsettling.

"A shame, then. How's Alex coping?" the doctor asked, switching topics. "I heard the kid gave her a through shaking after he saved her."

"He did," 'Frank' growled and I felt fear well up inside me. "She was scared out of her wits, but I have to admit she had it coming. I've told her so many times, not to stop and look when you're running. But does she listen? No, and look what nearly happened to her." he sighed. "If it wasn't for the kid…"

"Is she…?"

"I told her to go to her bunk and wait until news came from you." He sighed. "She was looking a tad guilty with herself. Why, though?"

"Maybe it was because her father bashed the head of the boy who saved her with his gun?" the doctor said airily. "Or maybe it was because she dug her fingers into one of his cuts?"

_I fucking knew it!_

"She what?"

"Her fingers, in one of his cuts. It must've been agonizing for the kid, having someone forcibly open his wounds like that and making it deeper, even if it was an accident." Accident or no, I demand recompense! "Then there's you almost bashing his head in. Did you really have to do that, though? I'm sure anyone else would've been angry too if someone jammed their fingers into an open wound."

"He was shaking her! I thought he'd gone crazy and started strangling her or something, so I reacted!"

"You gave him a _concussion_."

"I didn't know!"

"Right. You didn't." I could feel the dryness in her voice. "Still, I think he deserves an apology from the two of you at least, don't you agree? He did save her life after all and you almost bashed his head in…"

"Right, right." He sighed. "I still don't like him, though. And if he does anything to her again-"

There was a loud smack and when the doctor spoke again, her voice was cold and low. "No threatening my patients."

'Frank's' voice was low as well, and scared perhaps. "Sorry."

"Good. Now get out, I've got to change his bandages again." A pause. "Tell your little girl she can visit him tomorrow, if he wakes up then. And would it kill you to remind her to bring the supplies here when she gets the chance?"

"Right, right." There was a soft metallic creak. "Goodnight, Genevieve."

"That's Doctor, to you." There was a sound of rustling fabric. "Now out with you!"

There was a soft click when the door closed, then the sound of footfalls on steel fading away in the distance. Once, I was certain 'Frank' had left earshot, I felt hands begin working on me, gently pulling away the blanket and removing the bandages.

I tried to keep the discomfort out of my face, but I feel I might've let a few twitches through. I've felt my fair share of pain before, even while I was working as a trainee chef, but there isn't a pain like having bandages and sticky cotton wads removed from wounds that littered the surface of you front and legs. The best way I can describe it is like having to remove a band-aid from a particularly nasty cut somewhere on your person. A lot of blood would've been caked up on and around the cut and the band-aid, so when you pulled it, the blood sticking to it would also pull on the skin its caked on.

Not entirely uncomfortable if it's just a small cut, but when it's a _series_ of cuts on the front of your body, the feeling is magnified greatly. It didn't hurt much, mind you, but it was still a bit uncomfortable to endure.

"You poor thing." I heard the doctor whisper. "It won't last much longer now, I promise."

True to her word, it wasn't long after that she secured the last bandage and covered me up with the blanket again. I felt something brush against my forearm and heard the soft click of the door closing, followed son after by the fading footfalls of a person walking away.

I waited for a bit before deeming it safe enough to open my eyes and look around. The blank steel walls of the compartment greeted me, no different than they were a few minutes ago. I remained quiet for a few moments, ears straining to hear anyone else approaching, then let out a breath and started calming down. Then I started thinking.

So, I got two names now; 'Frank', who was most likely the father of the girl I shook up after she dug her fingers into one of my cuts, and 'Genevieve', the physician who worked to save me after 'Frank' knocked me out for scaring his daughter. A part of me felt guilty for doing that, scaring a girl, I mean, but then another reminded me that the girl I scared was also responsible for inflicting massive amounts of agony onto my person. I suppose that's recompense enough.

'Frank' also said something about a caravan. A convoy. To where? Was this a military convoy, tasked with delivering supplies and other some such things? But the way the other fighters were dressed, in a mishmash of countless colours, armor and using a variety of weaponry, I don't think they belonged to a formal military of some kind. Except Vacuo, perhaps. That place often struck me as place for the informal Maybe they were mercenaries? Private Security Contractors? If so, then who exactly did they work for?

I settled back into my bed and closed my eyes, preparing for sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow's going to be a long day…

* * *

><p>I woke up from my dreamless sleep to three unfamiliar faces. Well, two since I technically saw the other male occupant of the compartment save me yesterday, dragging me to safety. The man, a balding middle aged fellow with closely cropped blonde hair and fierce green eyes, stood with his arms crossed and wore a used tactical combat vest. His mouth was set into a frown, scowling as my eyes met his. I assumed he was 'Frank'.<p>

The other two occupants were a bit easier on the eyes. One was a middle aged woman, with brown hair and a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, who wore a faded white lab coat over a dark tank top, a pair of worn pants and heavy looking boots. I managed to make out the outline of a gun strapped to her thigh under her lab coat. So even doctors were armed on Remnant, huh? For some reason, I wasn't surprised.

The last person I noticed was the emerald-eyed angel. Well, not so angelic looking, now once I got a better look at her. But I'd be lying if I said she wasn't pretty. And the way her eyes glowed and the way she smiled at me made my heart skip a beat.

"He's awake!" the girl cried. "Hey, how are you feeling? Does you still ache anywhere? Do you need anything? Water or medicine or-"

"Easy girl." The older woman put a hand on her head. "He _just_ woke up. Let me look him over first, then the two of you can ask him all the questions you want."

Ah, great. The Q&A session. Might as well get on with it. Brain, don't fail me!

A few minutes pass with the good doctor running a check up on me. The bandages were holding up, none of my wounds had reopened or shown any signs of infection, and I was more or less okay. But she checked the bandage around my head and I heard her grimace.

"Something wrong, Evie?" the girl beside me asked her elder, earning a disapproving look from the male.

"It's doctor." The woman replied. "And… Yes, there is."

I felt the color drain out of my face and caught the alarmed looks on the faces of the other two.

"It's nothing serious," she hastily amended. "Just that… The kid might have some holes in his memory when you ask him your questions."

"Holes?" I spoke up. "What do you mean?"

"Here," I felt her prod one of the more painful spot and winced. "Sorry, here and here are where the more active parts of the brain are. They work in storing memories, specifically recent ones."

"They're bruised." The younger girl said.

"They sustained damage." The doctor elaborated, sending Frank a glare. "_Severe_ damage at that. Which means his memory may not be accurate. Hell, I doubt he'd be able to remember anything from a few days ago." I saw the male facepalm and felt my eye twitch. It was your fault this happened, dipshit! "Yeah, not much use asking him about recent events when you've bashed the memories out of him, Frank."

Yes! A plausible excuse to utilize my awesome bullshit skills! Quickly, before they change their minds!

"What happened a few days ago?" I asked, genuinely curious. Okay, mostly curious since I didn't know how long I've slept and what happened in that time.

"We were attacked." The older man pulled his hand off his face. "Beowolves. Grimm. They ambushed the Bus you were on and sent in veering off a cliff. Do you remember that?"

"I…Think…?" That's what happened? Holy shit, Remnant's deadlier than I thought.

"So, then my dad and I drove Bertha after you guys and sent me out to look for survivors!" The girl said, cheerfully. "I found a few on the ground and sent them to Bertha and spent some more time looking for more. When I didn't find anyone, I thought there weren't anymore so I doubled back and then I saw you stumbling through the smoke and shot the Beowolf that was stalking after you, then you shot the Beowolf that went after me! Then I carried you out and-"

"Alex." Frank said exasperatedly. "Breathe. Please."

"…I remember that." That girl has a big pair of lungs to speak that long. "Then I was fighting something…"

"The Alpha Beowolf." Frank clarified. "You killed it. Alone."

"I did?" It's still amazing to hear someone else say it than to actually say it to yourself. "How?"

"That's what we want to know." Frank took a step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "Who are you, really? And don't lie to us either, we can tell if you are."

Okay, play your cards carefully here man. These good people helped you when you were wounded and bleeding. Lying to them won't help you much and not telling them anything is just asking for trouble. Tell them the truth. Or at least a truth they'll most likely believe. Let's see…

"I'm David Cinza." I start slowly. "I'm from… Uh, what was the last place you stopped by?"

"It was a small town somewhere to the west, close to the Polithium River." The doctor said. "Kritan or Kartine or something?"

"Kritan! Yes, that's it." Okay, build it up from there. "I've been getting bored of that town lately, just the same view everyday doing the same things over and over, so I decided to go travelling. Expand my horizons. Maybe go to one of the Kingdoms and look for a decent job there. Ya'know, start over."

"You're going to Mistrall?!" Alex cries, shushed immediately by her father.

"What did you do in Kritan? Were you a Hunter?"

"Wha-No! No! Not at all!" I waved my bandaged hands in front of me. "I used to be a cook. I worked in one of the restaurants in town before I got fed up and left."

"Then how were you able to use a gun like that?" he pressed on. "No cook can shoot that good."

"I was part of the town guard." I said, surprised at how easily those words came out. "They trained us on how to use guns in case of a Grimm attack. Small towns like Kritan don't have protective walls like the Kingdoms, so we had to at least know how to defend ourselves in case the Grimm came."

"So you're not a Hunter?" Frank's shoulders relaxed.

"No, no. Just a cook." I confirmed.

"Dad!" Alex smacked her father on his shoulder. "Stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

"Alex, you know how I feel around strangers." He reasoned. "I just wanted to-"

"I'm old enough to look after myself, dad." She pouted. "You don't have to keep looking out for me like this. It's enough that you rarely let me out to help fight off the Grimm, but would you even keep me safe from the guy who saved my life?"

"Alex, you know I'm doing this for your sake."

"How is stopping me from talking to other boys for my sake?!"

The doctor cleared her throat before the argument could escalate. "Could the two of you take you heart to heart somewhere else? I have a patient here who needs his rest."

"In a minute" Alex pointed at me. "You said you were going to one of the Kingdoms. Are you headed to Mistral?"

"Uh-" I hesitated, a bit overwhelmed at the previous talk and now then sudden change in topics. "I-I was thinking about heading to Vale. Since, ya'know, that place's been looking rather nice lately. With the new influx of jobs and all…"

"Vale?" the doctor piped in, pulling the now excited girl back with one hand. "Isn't that a bit far to start over?"

I had a bad feeling about this… "Uh… What do you mean, far?"

"As in another continent far, kid." She elaborated. "You'd need to catch a cross-continental airship from Mistral if you'd want to get to Vale, seeing as it's on another continent. But why go so far anyway? Mistral's just as good as Vale; the weather's nice, the people are good, and I've heard the economy's coming along great over there." She rubbed her chin. "Come to think of it, we're a few months away from the place, aren't we?"

"Are we heading there?! Are we? _Are we?!"_ Alex was practically vibrating in place.

Frank's face scrunched in thought. "Oh, what the hell." He sighed. "We'll stop by there to restock and drop the kid off. We haven't been to one of the Kingdoms for two years anyway. Might as well."

Alex squealed and hopped in place, amusing the other two adults in the room. I, on the other hand, felt something cold and heavy settle at the bottom of my gut.

_Mistral?!_ "Oh." How the _hell_ did I wind up a continent away from _Vale?!_ "That's, uh, great. Yeah. Nice." Unbelievable! Now what am I supposed to do?! What was the point of sending to this place if I couldn't meddle with the main story, which for all I know, must be happening as we speak! And a few months away, how _wonderful!_ I don't even have any money or any other clothes to wear! This is just-

"Hey," Alex said. "What's with the long face?"

I blinked. "N-Nothing! It's just, well…"

"It's just…?" she led on.

"It's just that…" I bit my lip. "I... I kinda lost everything in the accident."

All three occupants in the room blinked. "Lost everything…?" Frank said.

"My scroll and my luggage." I sighed. "I don't even have a single Lien on me now, just my empty gun…"

My face fell. Great. Just one thing after another, isn't it? I wonder how long I can survive out there with an empty gun and a hospital gown? Probably a day or two, depending on whether or not Grimm find me or I die from environmental hazards. Ah well, it was good while it lasted. I managed to kill an Alpha Beowolf though, so there's that. At least I managed to do something worthwhile in the time I was here…

"…Actually," Frank said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "David, was it?"

I nodded. "One of our cooks was on the Bus that blew up and he didn't make it." I nodded again, feeling suspicious of where this was going. "Since you don't have any Lien on you and you have experience cooking-"

"You could work off the Lien you owe by cooking for us and earn some of Lien of your own!" Alex finished. "Right, dad?"

Frank grimaced. "I suppose he could…"

…I take back what I thought about you being a dipshit, Frank.

"Well, this aught to be good." The doctor grinned. "Maybe we'll be having some decent food for once and not those cooked MREs York usually makes."

"Yuck! I hate those rations!" Alex stuck her tongue out. "I'd rather eat rocks than those horrible things!"

"I see we're all in agreement here." Frank spoke, his voice resigned. He turned to me, face set into a professional frown. "When can you start?"

I took in the looks of everyone present, and grinned.

"When can I get out of this bed?"


End file.
